


Stay

by BirdOfHermes



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes/pseuds/BirdOfHermes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight AU of "A World on Fire" where Claire stayed with Matt for a week and they never had that fight. Drabble series. Mild spoilers for Daredevil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

It was somewhere around 3am when Claire heard Matt come home, slipping in through the window like a shadow. More accurately, she hadn’t heard him come in, but rather move around his bedroom—the soft squeak of the hinges on his dresser, the faint rustling of him removing his shirt, the little grunts of pain he tried to suppress when he bent over to remove his pants and boots. She tilted her head a bit, her heavy eyelids sliding up, catching sight of him as he wrestled into pajama pants. Even with the many scars adorning his back, it was a nice view, she admitted.

Once he was done, he started to shuffle towards the den, prompting her to speak. “What are you doing?”

He cocked his head towards her. “Going to bed.”

“Wrong direction.”

His head tilted in the opposite direction, a gesture of curiosity instead of trying to hear her. She smiled. “You’ve got enough things torn open on you, and sleeping on that couch is going to make it worse. We’re both adults, Matt. It’s fine.”

He swallowed. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m living with a masked vigilante and treating the myriad of injuries he gets from beating up the Russian mob, and you think sharing a bed makes me uncomfortable?”

He nodded a little. “Point taken.”

Her smile stretched. “Besides, you’re too banged up to try anything, so I think we’ll be fine.”

A surprisingly roguish smirk found his lips. “I think you underestimate the resilience of the male libido.”

She laughed. “Point taken. Guess we’ll have to risk it.” She patted the mattress behind her, turning onto her side and fluffing her pillow.

Matt wandered over and felt for the sheets, settling next to her with stiff movements. She closed her eyes and listened to him breathe, counting each breath to ensure he didn’t need her medical attention. Once she knew he was stable, she simply enjoyed the sound of someone warm and alive next to her, a presence she hadn’t felt in quite some time. Someone who cared, even if it was complicated. A nice (bizarre) lullaby.  


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire has a hunch about Matt's "sight" and its intentions.

“You want to ask me something.”

Claire glanced up from the book her right hand was spread across, her fingertips tracing the Braille, Matthew’s hand a warm, solid heat on top of it as he taught her how to read Don Quixote. 

“How did you…?” She licked her lips, sending him an arch look. “Your Spidey-sense tell you that?”

He smiled. “Not so much. Your breathing keeps hesitating like you want to talk. Figured it was a question.”

“Maybe I don’t want to ask it.”

“Why?”

“It’s personal.”

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m not used to sharing secrets, but I won’t keep any from you. Not after…” 

He let the sentence trail off, his thumb grazing one of the cuts on her knuckles. She pulled away instinctively, still sensitive to both the touch and the meaning behind it. For once, she was grateful he couldn’t see the momentary flicker of pain on her features. 

“When I get up and move around…your head tilts in different directions.”

“Yes.”

She bit her bottom lip, hiding a smile. “Are you checking me out?”

Matt coughed, choking on a laugh. Claire’s smile widened until it was nearly ear to ear. “I knew it. At first I thought you were just trying to figure out if I was looking for something, but that time I got up to stretch you were still listening anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, I’m not offended. I just thought it was funny. When I first got here I thought, ‘oh, well, he’s blind so I don’t have to worry about looking pretty all the time.’ It’s actually kind of comforting that you’re still…well…a guy.”

Matt grinned. “Well, in that case, I’ll do it more often.”

She flicked him in the ear, pursing her lips in a scowl. “Don’t push your luck, mister. Now show me where the next chapter starts.”   
 


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire finds a way to make herself a bit more comfortable while cooking breakfast. Slight songfic.

Unsurprisingly, Matt’s kitchen was stocked with easy-for-a-blind-bachelor-to-eat food: cans of soup, power bars, shakes, and the like. Claire wasn’t terribly hungry to begin with, but absconding with a masked vigilante made her want to find at least a speck of normalcy. There wasn’t any syrup, but he did actually have the ingredients for homemade pancakes.

Claire managed to find a pan—though it looked like Matt had taken it out on patrol, Rapunzel-style—and a bowl, gathering materials while humming to herself. She hated to be any sort of stereotype, but the song that sprang to mind—one she’d liked in her various gaming sessions back when she still had the mythical thing called ‘free time’—was about as girly as one could possibly get.

“ _I’m as corny as Kansas in August_ ,” she sang, dumping the contents of the flour bag into the mixing bowl.

“ _I’m as normal as blueberry pie_ ,” she crooned, cracking the eggs. “ _No more a smart little girl with no heart, I have found me a wonderful guy…_ ”

She flipped on the stove once the mix was done, her curvy hips automatically starting to sway to the imaginary beat. “ _I am in a conventional dither with a conventional star in my eye, and you will note there’s a lump in my throat when I speak of that wonderful guy…_ ”

She scraped some mix into the now-hot pan, watching it spread out into a perfect circle.

“ _I’m as trite and as gay as a daisy in May_

_A cliché coming true_

_I’m bromidic and bright as the moon_

_Happy night pouring light on the dune…_ ”

She flipped the pancake, digging out a paper plate and setting it on the counter. “ _I’m as corny as Kansas in August, high as a flag on the Fourth of July; If you’ll excuse an expression I use, I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love with a wonderful guy!_ ”

By the time she had finished the first pancake, she had made up her own little swaying, arm-swinging dance, practically floating towards the fridge to get herself a glass of orange juice, the last chorus of “I’m in love with a wonderful guy” on her lips.

Then she shut the fridge door and found Matt Murdock standing there.

Claire jumped, nearly dropping the carton. “Jesus, Matt! I’m gonna have to put a bell on you.”

“Sorry,” he said, his lips twitching with the effort not to smile. Or mock her. Or both.

“Should I even ask how long you’ve been here?”

He set the bag of produce he’d gotten from the farmer’s market on the counter. “Probably not.”

Claire sighed, turning back to her breakfast. “I sing. It relaxes me when I’m nervous.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

“No, but I still feel like an idiot and the explanation makes me feel better.” She sent him an even look over her shoulder, her voice flat. “And don’t read too much into the song choice. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

Matt’s battle over not smiling met its imminent defeat. “Of course.”

She studied the spatula in her hand. “If I throw this at you right now, could you dodge it?”

The smile widened into a playful grin, and she begrudgingly admitted it looked fantastic on his face. “Yes. But I’ll hold still if it makes you feel better—OW!”

 

 


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt gets Claire some new clothing. Hilarity ensues.

“Okay,” Claire said, holding up the blouse from the Gap plastic bag sitting on Matt’s bed. “I’m officially freaked out now.”

Matt cocked his head. “Why? That I knew your size?”

“Oh, we’ll get to that in a second,” she said, rubbing the material between her fingers. “How did you know blue was my favorite color? Can you read brain signals or something?”

“No, just…” He licked his lips. “Colors I remember well. I thought it would look nice with your skin.”

She held the garment up to her body, swishing the hem a bit. “Oh, so now I’m dressing up to be your eye candy. We’ve finally progressed to that point.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Eye candy?”

She winced. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“It’s okay. I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible while I figure things out. If you don’t like it—”

He reached for the bag, but she caught his wrist. “Come on, Matt. You know I’m kidding. Grow a sense of humor, Captain Serious.”

He relaxed beneath her touch. “Well, I do have one of those. That’s why I bought the leather corset and thigh high boots for you.”

Her jaw dropped. “You did _not_.”

She grabbed at the other big bag in his hand while he laughed, holding it out of reach. She tried to snatch it loose, but he caught her around the waist to keep her away from it, bringing their bodies in full frontal contact. He was warm. Solid. She didn’t get many chances to be this close without his life being in danger, and so she savored it. He seemed to notice the shift in her posture, his playful grin easing into a fond smile.

“You gonna tell me how you knew my size now?” she asked, settling her arms around his neck.

“Height, weight, the way my clothes fit on you. Nothing special.”

She bit her bottom lip, her lids lowering as she looked at him. “Sure you didn’t peek while I was taking my shower this morning?”

“How do you define the word ‘sure’ in this context?”

She laughed softly and leaned in, kissing him very gently, holding it for as long as she felt was appropriate. He didn’t shy away. He just melted into it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, slipping the other bag out of his hand.  


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire learns that the pain isn't the only thing Matt deals with on a nightly basis.

Claire awoke to gasping beside her—frantic, jerky gulps of air in between low groans of raw pain. Her eyes snapped open and she instinctively reached for the space next to her bed where she hid her bat, forgetting she was at Matt’s place until she realized there was a man lying next to her. She turned to see his fists clenching the sheets and his torso arched off the bed, his legs stricken.

“Matt!” She shook his shoulder, her eyes sweeping across his chest and torso, searching for open wounds. “Matt, can you hear me? What is it? Tell me where it hurts.”

He cried out again, twisting away from her, and she forced him onto his back, straddling him and pulling his shirt up to check his cuts. His eyes finally opened and he grasped her forearms hard.

“C-Claire?”

“I’m here. I’ve got you. Where does it hurt?”

He shook his head, making her frown. “No, no…it’s not the pain.”

“Then what is it?”

“Dreams.”

She inhaled, disbelief stamped over her features. “That was a nightmare?”

He nodded shakily, running one hand through his sweaty bed-head hair. She exhaled. “Jesus, Matt. You looked like you were having a seizure.”

“It was a bad one. Sorry I woke you.” He started to sit up, to draw away, but she pushed down with her hips, forcing him to stay put.

“Whoa, tough guy. You need to stabilize your breathing.”

A crooked smile crossed his lips. “That’s a bit hypocritical.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“You are sitting in my lap.”

She glanced down to confirm this information. “Oh. Well. Yes, I can see how that would be a little counterproductive for your breathing problem.”

“Not complaining.”

She smiled. “Like a good little Catholic boy. You wanna tell me what you saw in the dream?”

He pushed up on his hands, surprising her with the intimacy of the sudden movement, and the fact that he seemed more than okay with her still seated across his thighs. “Not particularly.”

She studied him. “Your dad?”

He didn’t answer for a while. Just sat there and breathed in and out until his chest rose and fell steady, sturdy, normal. “Yeah.”

She pushed his hair back, stroking his jaw with her thumb. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he murmured, leaning the side of his face into her hand. “You’ve taken care of my body. It’d be too much to ask for anything else.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?”

“Claire...”

“It’s okay to feel things, Matt. You can even be selfish sometimes. Proves you’re human, which you very much are, even if you do crazy shit all the time. I’m here, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She kissed his forehead, and he let out a small contented sigh that stirred her heart like several hundred volts of electricity. “Go back to sleep.”

She lifted up and he rolled onto his side. She draped one arm around his chest, careful of any of his stitches, and pressed the side of her face to his spine. He fell asleep in minutes. And stayed that way until morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but I am IN LOVE with the idea of Matt being the little spoon in this scenario. I think Claire is just such a great caretaker for him that she would be the big spoon. I don't know. IGNORE ME.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An analysis of Matt and Claire's incredibly steamy kiss from "A World on Fire." Parallels.

Claire was honestly surprised by how their first kiss happened, but what surprised her more was its composition. Matt had crashed into her life—loud, stark, terrifying, and angry. Yet he kissed her with such cautious appreciation, giving her enough time to move away if it was something she didn’t want. She had seen his fists ripping through the air, cracking skulls and busting noses, and yet those same fingers were so gingerly touching her chin, then sliding down to her throat, caressing the sensitive skin as if he’d been allowed to touch a masterpiece for the first time. He was all raw pain and self-righteous fury outside of these walls, but here. Here, he was warm. He was kind. Sweet. Passionate. Hers.

Surprising indeed.

-

Matt was honestly surprised by how Claire reacted to their first kiss, but what surprised him more was how she echoed his touch. Her body language always radiated the casual ease of a cat—ironic, he admitted to himself—someone filled to the brim with power, grace, quiet intelligence, and fierceness. For a fleeting moment, he feared she’d pull away, remind him of what a stressful position he’d put her in by asking her to move in with him, but she didn’t. She melted into the kiss, and met his lips with the same fire he saw day after day. The world was on fire for him, but Claire was like a star going supernova, exploding his senses with new tastes and scents and sensations that made goosebumps roll down his arms.

Surprising indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But no, seriously, that might be the hottest kiss in the history of Marvel Cinematic Universe. Unf unf unf.


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the third night at Matt's place, Claire starts having nightmares about her kidnapping. Matt might have a solution.

Claire didn’t have nightmares about the kidnapping the first or second night at Matt’s place. She figured she might not at all, having been an ER nurse for so long that the worst traumatic experience with a patient was pretty much as commonplace as drinking coffee and having scrambled eggs for breakfast.

The third night was different.

Hands. All over her. Hands that stank of cigarettes, blood, cheap Vodka, and engine oil. They were in her mouth, on her lips, clutching her throat, digging into her ribs, pinning her knees and ankles together. Garbled curses of Russian assaulted her ears. She couldn’t see. Was she blindfolded, or had they plucked her eyes out because she wouldn’t talk about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. She was alone. She was going to die alone. Just like some of those poor bastards she’d tried to save in the emergency room, night after night.

She came out of the nightmare with a quick gasp, as if she had sleep apnea and hadn’t breathed in over a minute. Her throat felt like it’d been in a vise. Her lips and mouth were drier than sandpaper. She needed water. And also to never have that fucking nightmare again.

Slowly, she sat up and draped her legs over the side of the mattress, suppressing small groans as her cuts and bruises complained. She was healing, but slowly. Joints cracked like popcorn as she stood and shuffled into the cool, open air of the kitchen, careful not to make enough noise to wake Matt. She poured a glass of water and leaned against the counter for a long while, rubbing her fingers along the cold surface of the glass, drinking sips, staring out the window at the muted lights of the city. She didn’t remember when he’d come in after another night of fighting the criminal underbelly. It had to be somewhere around three or four o’clock in the morning. He was a soldier worthy of Captain America for taking so many beatings every single night and then getting up in the morning to fight crime the legal way. Sure, it was probably foolhardy, but admirable nonetheless.

She drank the whole cup and placed it in the sink, lamenting Matt’s lack of television. Adult Swim nonsense was a great distraction when she couldn’t sleep. He had tons of books here, but they were in Braille, and she was still just a beginner. What the hell did he do for fun around here anyway?

She sighed and slipped back into bed next to him, a lump in her throat at the thought of returning to sleep only to have that nightmare again.

“Can’t sleep?” Matt asked quietly. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Not really,” she admitted once she was sure he hadn’t given her a heart attack. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Wasn’t asleep either.”

She rolled over, wincing as sharp pain bit into her ribs, looking at him. He lay face up, those brown eyes seemingly fixed on the ceiling though she knew they weren’t. “Need me to have a look at you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not hurt too bad this time. It was a quieter night than it’s been for a while.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “Maybe. Just hope it’s not the calm before the storm.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “We really should go to sleep, though.”

“I was coming to that.” He stood and padded over to his nightstand, rummaging through it while she watched. He withdrew an iPod shuffle and handed it to her.

“What’s this for?”

“You’ll see.” She eyed him for a moment, then popped in one headphone and clicked it on. Silence. Then, a soft rumble of thunder. The patter of rain overhead and on the ground.

Matt smiled. “Foggy made it for me after I told him I get bouts of insomnia. It’s on a loop. It’ll play until you turn it off in the morning.”

She shook her head, amazed. “You are a life saver, Matt.”

“Learned from the best.” He kissed her forehead, rubbing her shoulders in slow, soothing circles before he pulled away.

“Good night, Claire.”

“Good night, Matt.”


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt thought Claire would be safe after she stayed with him, but the Russians are still out looking for her, and he's starting to realize things might not be a simple as he hoped.

She knew something was wrong by the way she heard the roof access door slam and the heavy booted steps leading down towards Matt’s loft. She closed the Braille copy of The Three Musketeers and stood up, her palms sweaty, ready to see him bruised and bloodied, but he wasn’t from what she could tell.

“Matt?” She came towards him, touching his shoulders when she was close enough, expecting to feel the wet warmth of blood, but for once there wasn’t any. His breathing was erratic, his teeth clenched, and she could feel the tremors running through his chest muscles. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Went back to your place,” he said in a low voice. “Had to be sure they’d given up searching for you. It’s been the last stop I make before I come back here, and so far, no one had been there. This time, someone picked the lock and was inside tossing the place.”

Claire’s eyes widened. “God. What did you do?”

He ripped off his mask, running a gauntleted hand through his mussed hair. “We got into it. I had him on the ropes. He went down the fire escape into the alley. I was closing in, but…across the street, there was a liquor store being held up and I—”

He threw the mask against the couch. “I had to let him go.”

She searched his face, trying to understand the anger that nearly made his body vibrate. “Matt, that sounds like a perfectly good reason to—”

“It’s not,” he snarled, shocking her. “Three days and four nights, Claire. That’s how long you’ve been here. I thought after I cleaned out their whole nest they’d get smart and find another way to stop me. I could have made him talk. Made him tell his friends that you skipped town and were no longer a factor. Now he’s gonna get away and you’ll be stuck here.”

Claire let a short silence fall between them, watching him pace back and forth on the rug. Then she licked her lips and crossed her arms. “Last time I checked, that was my choice, Matt. I said yes to staying here with you. I could have gone on an early vacation, or moved elsewhere, but I didn’t.”

“You don’t understand,” he said tightly. “They’re winning. You should have the right to be where you want to be, not to have to worry about some asshole tailing you or busting up your place because of me. What about your life? Your choices, your freedom, all of it I’ve jeopardized.”

“Yeah, because you were out there saving lives, and I pulled you out of that dumpster because I also save lives. It’s a compromise. I can live with it.”

He sat down on the couch, head bowed, sighing. “Maybe I can’t.”

The silence was deafening this time. She swallowed hard before speaking. “Are you saying you want me to leave?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know, I just…”He shook his head.

“Finish it.”

He lifted his head, frowning. “What?”

“Finish what you were going to say.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. You’re not the only one who can tell when someone’s holding back. I can hear it in your voice. Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you want me to stay. Even if it’s not good for me. Even if my life gets screwed up even worse taking care of you. What’s this really about, Matt? You have to know you did the right thing stopping that robbery, so what are you afraid of?”

“Anyone I get close to gets hurt. Or they leave.” Matt’s jaw clenched, as if he wanted to stop, but he kept going. “I can count on one hand who has been with me for more than just a couple years. I don’t want that to be you, Claire. If they find out who I am and they find out who you are, and I’m not there to stop it, they’ll kill you and…”

Claire walked over to him and sat on the coffee table, taking his hand, her voice gentle now. “Say it.”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you too. I’m not scared of much, but that scares the hell out of me.”

“That fear isn’t going to go away even if they gave up tomorrow and I could go back home. It’s the cost of caring about someone.”

She pulled off his glove and brought his hand up to cup her chin. He exhaled softly, rubbing a calloused thumb across her cheekbone. “And you can feel my heart right now, so you know I’m not lying when I say that I don’t regret saving you and getting into this mess with you. Maybe I can’t take a beating as well as you or thrash twenty guys with my bare hands, but I’m a part of this, same as you. I help people who need it. And it seems like you need it the most right now.”

She tilted her face slightly and kissed his palm. Matt suppressed a shudder. “Claire.”

“Shh,” she said, erasing the space between them. She kissed him with a kind of hunger he instantly recognized, a change in the scent of her skin, in the way her heart beat through where they touched. She slid onto his lap in one smooth motion, straddling him on the couch, her slender fingers diving between them to peel off his shirt. By the time they got to his belt, Matt stopped thinking altogether and simply let the fire devour them both. 


	9. Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has a bit of a request and Claire has some reservations.

“You’re too quiet.”

Matt angled his head towards Claire. “Hmm?”

She shifted next to him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Something’s on your mind. I can tell. Your eyebrows keep crinkling up like you want to frown.”

He smirked faintly. “You’re getting way too good at reading body language.”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me. What’s wrong, Matt?”

“Nothing’s wrong, per se, but…” He exhaled. “You know my friend, Foggy?”

“Mm-hmm, the lawyer. Your best friend and partner in crime, so to speak.”

“Well, he’s noticed that I haven’t been available the past few nights, and he put together that I’ve had…company. And—”

“Now he wants to meet me.”

“Yes.”

“Does he meet all your live-in-girlfriends who save your life on a regular basis?”

Matt coughed, hiding a laugh. “Ah, no. But he’s said he thinks you’re having an effect on me and so he has to make your acquaintance. His words.”

She studied him for a while, running her fingertips along his collarbone. “Do you want me to meet him?”

“I want whatever you feel comfortable with. That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up. I don’t think we’ve really discussed what this is just yet. Adding Foggy to the mix might complicate things.”

She let out a small laugh, sitting up. Matt tilted his head and sighed, the warm air painting a picture of her lovely naked form beside him. “I highly doubt this can get any more complicated.”

Her smile faded. “I take it he doesn’t know about your nightly activities.”

Matt clenched his jaw, resisting another frown. “No.”

“And you want to keep it that way, don’t you?”

“Yes. For now.”

Claire sighed, shaking her head. “God, is the stubbornness from your Dad or from being Catholic?”

“Probably both.”

“I’m not going to lie to your best friend.” She slid off the mattress and gathered up his robe, padding over to the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, tapping her fingers against the archway. 

“Bring him over for dinner tomorrow. I’ll cook. We’ll figure it out from there. Deal?”

Matt smiled and nodded, his voice soft with gratitude. “Deal.”


	10. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt, Claire, and Foggy have dinner together.

“Alright,” Foggy said, swallowing the last bite of the tamale. “I’m gonna go for broke here. Will you marry me, Claire?”

She laughed, and Matt choked on his refried beans in mid-bite. She shook her head and shrugged. “Well, you do run your own practice. I admit I have to consider the offer.”

Foggy clapped once, his smile victorious. “At last, my mother’s wishes are coming true. I’ll have a beautiful woman who cooks to bring home for Thanksgiving. It’s all coming together for old Fogster.”

“And I guess I have no say in this?” Matt asked, sipping his ice water.

“You snooze, you lose, buddy,” his friend replied, patting his shoulder. “Any woman who can make a homecooked meal this good deserves scores and scores of marriage proposals.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Claire said. “But I’m glad you like it.”

“Absolutely. If you weren’t already a nurse, I’d hire you to be my personal chef. Speaking of which, how did you end up meeting this one?” Foggy nodded towards Matt. There was a brief silence before Claire answered.

“Matt…had gotten himself hurt. I took pity on him and fixed him up. We sort of just clicked after that.”

“Man, you mean you lucked into meeting this goddess? I’ve got to make sure to stumble into traffic at the next available opportunity.”

Matt shook his head. “Luck has nothing to do with it. She made a choice most people wouldn’t have made. I’m more than lucky. It was pretty much a divine intervention.”

Foggy crossed himself. “Amen, man. I haven’t seen you smile this much in a while.”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it looks like I’m blushing, I’m not. It’s the tamales.”

Foggy and Claire shared a laugh. She stood, clearing the dishes. “Anyone for dessert?”

Foggy rubbed his belly. “Oh, if it’s anything like dinner, yes, please. What’s on the menu?”

“Flan.”

The lawyer groaned, his eyes rolling back. “Can I propose again or would that be inappropriate?”

“Not at all. Good to know _someone_ appreciates me.”

Matt tilted his head towards Foggy. “She’s glaring at me, huh?”

“Yeah, you didn’t need your Spidey-sense for that one.” Foggy watched as she brought down plates and retrieved the dessert from the fridge, leaning in.

“Seriously, Matt, she’s…incredible. I mean, I always make fun of you for somehow knowing about the pretty ones, but…Claire’s a game changer. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Matt scratched the back of his neck, resisting the urge to let his smile wilt as guilt gnawed at his gut. “I dunno, I…guess I didn’t want to jinx it, y’know?”

Foggy studied him for a moment. “Yeah. Guess not. I mean it, though. You seem to really like her. Don’t mess this up, buddy. She’s a keeper for sure.”

Matt smiled, listening to Claire’s faint humming, the golden vibrations painting a picture of her tall frame moving seamlessly about in the kitchen as if she were meant to be there.

“Yeah. She is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. I've been hella busy. I have a few ideas, but for now, this series is on a tiny bit of a hiatus as I wait for a really juicy idea to pop into my head. Thanks for reading so far, Daredevil fans. You guys are so wonderful and supportive that I'm overwhelmed with gratitude.


End file.
